


Three Things that Never Happened between Irene and Domino

by likeadeuce



Category: Cable and Deadpool, Marvel
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-15
Updated: 2010-02-15
Packaged: 2017-10-07 07:23:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likeadeuce/pseuds/likeadeuce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These things never happened. At least we're pretty sure they didn't. All right, obviously, they definitely didn't. Because you're reading a work of fiction. A work of <i>fan</i> fiction. Based on a comic book. A comic book written by a man who is probably insane. But if they had happened, they might have gone a little like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Things that Never Happened between Irene and Domino

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in a femslash ficathon, where the recipient's username was "Hotelmontana." This is referenced in the story!

_ Three Things that Never Happened Between Irene and Domino  
At Least, We're Pretty Sure They Never Happened  
Of Course, None of this Ever Happened  
It's Fiction  
Fanfiction  
Fanfiction Based on a Comic Book  
But Like A. Deuce is Using Pretentious Meta Titles Anyway  
On Some Level, This is Probably Dave Eggers' Fault  
All Right, Can We Get Started Now?  
Over to you, Deadpool_

DEADPOOL: Wade Wilson here, the Merc with the Mouth, known worldwide -- and in all thirty-seven states -- as Deadpool. (Okay, nearly all thirty-seven. For your information, Indiana, I'm not returning your phone calls either).

Before you get too excited, ladies, I'll let you down easy: I'm not in this issue. And do you want to know why? Because it's not an issue! It's a FANFICTION! That's right, fangirls, take your hands away from your ladyparts and your eyes off your Hugh Jackman bobble-head dolls long enough to look back up where it says "Disclaimer." _These characters are not mine, and I am making no money from this._ Well, Wade Wilson is many things but he is not a whore!. He doesn't do the work if he can't cash the checks!

WEASEL: That's what a whore is, Deadpool.

DEADPOOL: What's that? Yeah, I know what a whore is, though at least you stopped crying and fondling your picture of Starbuck long enough to tell me. (to audience) That's my buddy, Weasel. Evil genius, but not too bright. Hasn't been the same since Starbuck went in the [SPOILER REDACTED] and then the Admiral [REDACTED] and then the lady President [REDACTED]. And then my buddy Weasel cried like a woman. But not like Starbuck. She could kick his ass.

Weasel's got one thing in common with me, though. HE DOESN'T WORK FOR FREE! So he's not in this story, either. In fact, the only regular cast members who would work for what Mr. Like A. Deuce pays are: (1) Cable's chief-of-staff, former girl reporter, and resident vixen, the future Mrs. Wilson, Irene Merryweather, and (2) Petey the Wonder Dog.

WEASEL: And by Petey, you mean Domino. Cable's love interest. I don't know why you call her a dog. Sure, she has that patch over her eye but she's still pretty hot.

DEADPOOL: As I was saying, the only available cast members were the future Mrs. Wade Wilson, and Petey the Really Hot Wonderdog. But I don't see what makes her his love interest. Just because they have a decade of shared history and she once made him cry a single perfect mantear, and they've been having wild monkey sex (implied) pretty much nonstop since five panels after I kicked him out of my country.

WEASEL: Cable's the one who runs two countries, Deadpool. Also there are fifty states. And I'm pretty sure Like A. Deuce is a girl.

DEADPOOL: Fine, you do the recap. The only way I'd want to narrate a story about Irene and Petey is if they were going to get naked and have sex with each other. (wiggles eyebrows suggestively, not that it shows through his mask) If you know what I mean.

WEASEL: That's what has to happen in this story, Wade. See up there? "2007 Femslash Ficathon."

DEADPOOL: Exactly! And if I want to see women slash at each other in disturbingly erotic ways, I can watch the very special _Golden Girls_ where Rose and Dorothy take a Rape Aggression Defense class. (Points off-panel) Look, there's Starbuck! (Sticks out foot).

WEASEL: Where---? (Trips over Deadpool's foot. Falls off-panel).

DEADPOOL: Now that we got rid of him. To the recap part of the recap. Cable's missing. Where'd he go? Not important. Maybe Marvel's trying him out in another book, one that doesn't only get bought by people Nicole has incriminating pictures of. Maybe he's lying on a beach somewhere having erotic fantasies about a certain yellow pair of ladies' panties. What matters is that the two most important women in his life (no, not his mom and his mom's clone! They're dead this month!) are left all alone (except for a few smelly hippies, 6 Nobel Prize Winning economists, 11 murderers, and an assload of Live Action Role Players) on a the great big metal island of Providence.

And we all know what that means. Boom chicka wah wah.

Fade in

*

THE GREAT BIG (SHINY!) METAL ISLAND OF PROVIDENCE

"Cable is missing." Irene Merryweather scrunched her buttonlike nose under her highly intelligent glasses. Tossing her fiery red hair in a surprisingly kittenish gesture, she announced, "However, I do not care. Cable is a poopy pants who was mean to his best friend, Deadpool, and threw him out of his country for something that he didn't do, that wasn't his fault, that Cable knew he was going to do anyway, so it totally shouldn't count. However shall I take my revenge on him? Cable. Not Deadpool."

Irene stood, thinking thoughtfully. As she pondered, looking very intelligent (for she was once a girl reporter and graduated from an Ivy League sorority), she ran her tongue provocatively along one long and well-manicured finger, in a way that made it entirely obvious to a casual observer that she was thinking about performing fellatio. Or cunnilingus. Or fellatio and cunnilingus at the same time.

Or eating a Jolly Rancher. Casual observering wasn't an exact science.

Mmmm. Watermelon Jolly Ranchers are the best.

"I know!" The pert redheaded brightened instantly, the arrival of a smart thought rendering her smart face even more erotic. "I will find Cable's love interest, Domino, and I will strip her naked and have sex with her! I cannot wait to push her love button."

Irene ran toward the door. However, before she reached it, Domino burst in. "Irene!" Domino panted, the exertion turning her white face – well, still white. She doesn't actually have any blood under there, apparently. "Irene!" Domino continued to pant. "I know how we can take revenge on Cable. Will you strip me naked and squeeze my nipples while you squirt barrels of cum-fluid into my waiting rosebud mouth?"

"No, Domino!" Irene answered. "Not unless _you_ do it to me first."

"Oh, Irene!" the albino mercenary gasped, running toward her one-time disputant, soon to be her inamorata. But just before the albino started licking the redhead's breast, the redhead remembered.

"Oh, no, Domino, it can't happen this way."

"Of course," answered the mercenary.

Together, they said, "Deadpool. We need to let Deadpool watch."

*

[Off-panel]: Ahem.

DEADPOOL: It's all right, Weasel. Irene's never going to read this. She's got countries to run, great literature to read, me and Cable and the whole sunscreen incident to fantasize about . . .

[Off-panel]: Ahem.

DEADPOOL: And since when do you say 'Ahem'? The only person I know who actually says 'ahem' is Irene.

IRENE (stepping onto panel): Ahem.

DEADPOOL: Oh. Hi, Irene. I was just (tries to hide something behind his back) playing with this grenade.

IRENE: That grenade looks like a book. Why do you have a . . .thesaurus? And more importantly, if you have a thesaurus, couldn't you do better than'thinking thoughtfully'?

DEADPOOL: I'm telling you. The next part's going to be harder (waves book) "Lady juice" isn't even in here. Much less cun –"

IRENE: There isn't going to be a next time, Wade. What you're doing here – this is patently offensive. It's sexist and it's degrading – to the female gender, to yourself – if that's possible – and especially to me!

DEADPOOL: Degrading! It's not – (covertly glances at thesaurus, mutters) aspersing, contumelious, opprobrious, what the hell. . ? It isn't unfavorable! I said you were smart. . .at least six times! . . and kittenish. . .and that Domino should eat Cool Ranch Doritos out of your. . .oh, wait, that's a spoiler.

IRENE: (hides her face) Deadpool. If that was going to happen – which it wouldn't – especially not the part with the Doritos – well, it wouldn't happen, but this – (glances up) This Hotel Montana person. She wants us to pretend that it would. So if it did – I'm only saying if, just so Miss Deuce – who, despite her strange obsession with Iron Man, is a perfectly nice lady -- can write her story and go vacation. So if we have to pretend that Dom and I actually would – well, I think it would go a little differently.

*

THE ISLAND SANCTUARY OF PROVIDENCE

Irene Merryweather, Chief of Staff of the Island of Providence and Chronicler to the Time-Traveling Warrior-Prophet know as Cable stopped, poised gracefully in the doorway of the workout room. She had come here with an important task on her mind but she was taken off-guard by the sight that greeted her.

Only moments before, security had paged her. "Domino's going nuts!" said Chief Kriek. "She's tearing up the place! I've never seen anything like it!"

Irene had raced down the hall to the gym, but what she saw when she got there was entirely unexpected. Yes, the punching bags and freeweights were scattered all over the floor. Yes, the mirror lay shattered into a thousand little pieces. The place had clearly been hit by Hurricane Domino. But Neena Thurman herself, far from being on a rampage, sat in the corner of the room, arms around her knees, rocking back and forth as she let out her breath in long, keening sobs.

"How long has she been like this, Chief?" Irene asked, in her usual firm but gentle demeanor. "Have you tried to calm her down?"

"Look, Ms. Merryweather," said Kriek. "With all due respect. I put in thirty years with INTERPOL, half of those in crisis management, but I know when I'm licked, and this little lady –" He shook his head. "She's out of my league."

"It's all right." With a nod to the Chief and his men, Irene stepped decisively toward the crying, trembling woman. She raised her hand toward the officers and gestured to the door. "Leave us," she said, and, as always, they responded instantly to her quiet authority.

When they were alone, Irene stepped gingerly toward the other woman and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Domino?" Domino started to shake her away, but stopped short when Irene said – "Neena?" Slowly, Domino turned her eyes upward. They were soft, violet pools. "Why don't you tell me what's wrong?"

"Oh, Irene," sighed Domino. "It's Nathan. He's – he's really gone this time, isn't he? He's really left me?"

"Neena –" Irene answered, her hand reaching down to stroke Dom's cheek. With the tears streaking her face, the mercenary suddenly looked very young and very vulnerable. "Neena," said Irene. "It's just his way. He's off, somewhere. Helping another country that needs him more than we do right now."

Looking up at her, Domino blinked. "We?" she repeated. "Like you and me, we?"

"You and I, yes. You and I and everyone here at Providence needs Nathan. We need him to be strong. To be something for us to believe in. But if he didn't occasionally – well, often – need to be somewhere else – anywhere else, it sometimes seems – then he wouldn't be the person that I – that we – love and need so much."

"I –" Domino repeated. "You said 'I' – that is you – you said you love him."

"Oh, Neena. Yes, it's true. Yes, of course I love him. But it can never be. Because Nathan – no, Cable -- will always love people like you. People he can offer a chance at a salvation they could never make for themselves. Sometimes I don't think you know how lucky you are."

"Lucky?" Domino let out a bitter laugh. "Oh, Irene, what has my luck power ever brought me but pain? You're the one who's lucky! Cable listens to you. He respects your mind. Your ideas." Leaning closer to Irene, Domino almost whispered the next part, her secret shame. "Why do you think I came back to Providence, even when I knew Cable had disappeared? I know, Irene, that whenever he comes back he will come to you. And until then –"

Domino stopped. She almost turned away. But Irene reached out to touch her cheek, and as she turned, violet eyes met green, and a moment later Domino's lush lips met Irene's.

Neither of them had planned it. Irene was sure of that. The last time something like this had happened to her was at a _Daily Bugle_ staff party, and it had involved Mary Jane Watson-Parker, a tray full of Jell-o shots, and a game of Truth or Dare --.

*

[Off-panel]: AHEM.

DEADPOOL: Sorry about that. My narrator-powers are pretty strong. Something might have leaked into your story. Subconsciously.

IRENE: I'll say. But that wasn't my 'ahem.' (Ducks, blushing a little, as DOMINO enters the panel). Hi, there, umm. . .Neena?

DOMINO: Hi. Does somebody want to tell me what's going on here? (Before Deadpool can speak). Not Deadpool.

IRENE: Oh, you know we're just – there's this "2007 Femslash Ficathon" thing, and Hotel Montana wanted you and I to. . .you know how it goes. Miss Deuce put this off way too long, and she just wants to finish before she goes on vacation, so she decided to go the lazy-writer meta route –

DOMINO: So I noticed. (Looks around) There's so much authorial self-insertion going on, I keep expecting Grant Morrison to walk in and start talking about animal cruelty. But seriously, 'Rene. In what universe do I break down crying because Nate likes you better?

IRENE: I didn't – that wasn't – that's out of context!

DOMINO: And that whole thing about saving? I don't pretend to know what Nate sees in me, but he's screwed me over at least as often as he's saved me. Our relationship isn't the way you described it at all.

DEADPOOL: Ahah! But is it true that you like Cool Ranch Doritos?

DOMINO: Sure. I guess. Who doesn't?

DEADPOOL: (nudges Irene) I told you mine was better. Petey, baby, now that Nate's missing, why don't you just pull up a chair while Uncle Deadpool tells a story.

DOMINO: Missing? Guys, Nate's not missing. He's not saving the world, either. He and Cyclops and Corsair decided to go deep sea fishing this weekend, before one of them has to go into space again. As soon as the boys get back, we're flying to Sydney to meet Emma and Hepzibah for dinner and _Wicked._ Sorry to disappoint.

IRENE: God, now I feel like an idiot.

DEADPOOL: Me t – oh, wait, I am an idiot. Carry on.

IRENE: Dom, I'm sorry, just – go enjoy your date. I didn't have any right to make up those things about you.

DOMINO: It's all right. The way this title works, we all have our narrative accidents. (Starts to go. Stops, turns. Grins). Of course, if Irene and I did have to get naked, it should obviously be on . . .

*

THE ICE PLANET OF HOTH

A sheer blanket of ice pelts down outside. Only in this small underground shelter do the two weary travelers find a brief respite from the punishing storm. Here in the light of the fire, Irene starts to drift off into welcome sleep , when --

*

IRENE: The _ice planet of Hoth_? As in _The Empire Strikes Back_?

DOMINO: Yeah, what about it? The _X-men_ met the crew of the _Enterprise_ once. Captain Kirk hit on Jean Grey. You're saying that time and space travel to a location that may not actually exist is any less plausible than _House of M_?

IRENE: All right, but with all the multiverse at our disposal -- why that place?

DOMINO: Because I get to do this.

*  
\-- Domino slapped Irene across the face.

 

*

IRENE: Hey! Why did you --?

DOMINO: Ease up. This never happened, remember? Just let me tell _my_ story.

*

"Wha'd you do that for?" Irene said, groggily. Her head started to loll to the other side.

Domino slapped her again. "Don't fall asleep!"

"Because of the concussion? From the storm trooper guy, before you shot him?"

"You didn't get hit on the head, Irene. I did. Fortunately, I have a thick skull. As for you –" She touched the soaking sleeve of Irene's parka. "It's just the hypothermia talking. Or it will be. If you don't get out of those clothes."

"Get out –" Irene looked at her trembling arm. "But I'm freezing."

"You'll freeze a lot faster with that cold fabric against your skin. Come on." Domino clapped her hands, signaling Irene to hurry. As for herself, she was wearing a tight waterproof thermal, especially designed by Forge, right next to her skin. She should have made sure Irene had something comparable, but it never occurred to her that anyone would go on a rescue mission to an _ice planet_ decked out in fall clothes from L.L. Bean, which even now were --

 

*

IRENE: Is it necessary for me to be completely stupid in order for this story to work?

DOMINO: It isn't necessary, but it's kind of fun.

DEADPOOL (yawns, slumps back into a La-Z-Boy that has suddenly materialized): Can you wake me up when one of you is naked?

*

\-- which even now were sliding off of Irene's body, onto the floor.

She has fair skin, almost as light as Domino's own, but underneath it courses a rosy blush of rushing blood, brought out by the frigid air. Dark aureoles stand out against her skin, the nipples hardened to points --

*

IRENE: So I freeze to death while you ogle my tits? I'm starting to think I like the Dorito story better. Besides, they don't – they aren't (looks away, mumbles) You've got my coloring all wrong.

DOMINO: (tilts head) Do I?

IRENE (looks at Deadpool)

DEADPOOL (snores)

IRENE (sighs in relief): It's not important. Go on.

 

*

"What now?" Irene mumbles. "We find a Taun Taun to cut open and crawl inside?"

"Better." Domino whisks out a sleeping bag, and throws it to Irene.

*

IRENE: Wait, you had a sleeping bag all that time, and you just now gave it to me? Thanks a lot. Where were you carrying it anyway?

DOMINO: Uhhhh. . . . a pouch! You know. All those pouches on my belt? Just like Cable has.

IRENE: You fit a whole sleeping bag in a pouch?

DOMINO: I. . ..uhh. . ..

IRENE (snaps her fingers): Unstable molecules. You got them from Reed Richards. You know, before he was a fascist.

*

"It's the world's warmest sleeping bag," Domino explains. "It traps 100 percent of your body heat, and it's made of unstable molecules. I got them from Mr. Fantastic, back in his days of being not-crazy-and-cloning-people-and- wishing-for-the-good-old-days of McCarthyism."

*

IRENE: Mark Millar flicks goats.

DOMINO: Actually, that one was by Straczynski.

IRENE: I know, I just like to say "Mark Millar flicks goats."

DOMINO: Who doesn't? It's funny because it's true.

DEADPOOL: (snores, mumbles) Gooooaaaatttts.

*  
"But what about you?" Irene asks, her brow knitting up with concern. Sliding inside the sleeping bag, she looks at Domino and says, "There's room for two in here, you know."

Domino freezes with a hand on the zipper of her thermal armor and looks at Irene in surprise. "I mean," Irene says hastily, "I figured soldiers did stuff like this all the time. Besides. I'm not sure if I have any b-b-body heat to trap. What do you say?"

It's a sensible suggestion, and Domino only wonders why she felt any shyness in the first place. She slips out of her clothing quickly – it doesn't take long; with thermal armor, underwear only gets in the way. Trying not to feel the other woman's eyes on her, she slips inside the bag, which accommodatingly becomes just big enough for the two of them. She wonders what kind of occasions Reed designed this for, exactly, and reminds herself not to mention the thing to Susan. "So," Dom hesitates, then blurts, "face to face or --?"

"Yes," Irene says, then quickly. "I mean, that seems sensible. If –"

"Yes." Domino's years as a soldier have acquainted her with many sleeping arrangements, but she has never exactly encountered this one. She isn't prepared for the way their breasts nestle together. The points of Irene's cold nipples rub against her, and Dom feels her own skin constrict. Irene doesn't mean anything by it, surely but her thigh is pressed against Dom's crotch, and Dom can feel herself moistening as though her warmth is straining to escape. She's embarrassed by how much she wants to touch herself, and hopes Irene, who's so cold next to her, who might be dying –

*

IRENE: Wait, I'm dying? I'm dying and this makes you horny?

DOMINO: No, Irene. You're fucking gorgeous and pressed against me in a sleeping bag with your nipples all hard and – wow, this would be a good time for Deadpool to wake up and say something to break the tension.

DEADPOOL (snores)

*  
. . .who obviously isn't dying, because Domino can feel the warmth coming back to her body, and she sounds very alert when she says, "But Nate's coming to get us soon."

A little crazy, but very alert.

Dom laughs. She laughs because laughing is a way not to think about dying here, trapped underground, long ago in a galaxy far away on a planet that shouldn't exist. Laughing is a way not to wonder how warm it is between Irene's legs, or about the tight curves of her ass and the way that she can tell Nathan sometimes looks at it and thinks 'What if?' even though they all try to pretend that he doesn't –

*

IRENE: Nathan thinks what?

DEADPOOL (muttering): Nooo.. . not the Lunchables, Mr.Goat. Anything but the Lunchables. Do you like pancreas?

*

\-- so instead of thinking about any of this, Domino laughs and says, "Is that what you think? That, what, he got himself lost in a nonexistent galaxy so that we'd come after him and we'd have to share a sleeping bag and any minute he bursts in here and asks us if we've learned anything about co-operation?"

"No! Well ---are you saying he wouldn't?"

*

IRENE: Seriously. Are you saying he wouldn't?

DEADPOOL (mutters): Chimichanga. . .

*

"All right, he probably would," Dom admits. "But that doesn't mean he did. Cable's really good at acting like he knew what was happening all along. But, somehow, that hasn't stopped all kinds of shitty things from happening to people he cares about."

*

IRENE: That's a fairly awful thing to say.

DOMINO: It's just a story, Irene.

*

"That's a fairly awful thing to say." Irene's breath comes fast and Domino wonders whether she'll still be defending Cable with her last gasp of air, whenever the hour comes that he can't save them anymore, when all Irene's goodness and all Dom's luck can't save them anymore.

"What's worse? Believing that he really knows everything and he still lets our lives turn to shit half the time?" Domino sighs and she tries to turn away, but the bag constricts her movement. "What matters now is that it's just you and me here." _Just your thigh against my stomach, just your nipples tickling my skin._ "Tomorrow morning, you and me will have to figure out how to get out of this, because just maybe he isn't coming. But for tonight – we should think of other ways to keep warm." And Domino slides her hand slowly toward Irene's –

*

DEADPOOL (sits bolt upright): Girlparts. Hey, I almost missed that. You promised you'd wake me up!

DOMINO &amp; IRENE: No, we didn't.

DOMINO: And that's my cue –

IRENE: You – don't have to stop.

DOMINO: Yeah, I – I really think I do. Though if you want to know what happens next. (shrugs) We'll find out someday. When our luck runs out,

IRENE: (Looks after her) Yeah, I think. . . .(to herself) Maybe we will.

DEADPOOL: So. What did I miss? (Reaches into a pouch, produces a shiny bag, which he waves in triumph). Cool! Doritos. Want one?


End file.
